"I don’t have any."

"I mean your fost-"

"Emancipation."

"Oh." Sore spot.

"Yeah so what about your parents?" He sounded so defensive.

"What about them?"

"They’re gonna be looking for you right?"

"Well yeah…I mean I figure I’ve got at least two days before my mom knows I’m gone…after that I don’t know what she’ll do. Call the cops probably and say I’ve been kidnapped. She’d never believe I’d run away."

"You’re close with her." He sounded like he disapproved. Who the hell did he think he was?

"Sometimes."

"What about your "dad"?"

"I dunno. He left when I was a –" God, I had almost said "baby". "Ah…younger. He left me and my mom a long time ago." Silence.

"Two days huh?"

"Yeah. At least."

"That’s not good enough. You’re gonna have to call and tell her your not coming home for awhile." I started to object (y’know to be convincing) but he cut me off.

"Just until we’ve got this all figured out. Maybe once the four of us are all together Nasedo’ll come back and tell us what the hell’s going on."

He turned back to the fire and held his hand over it.

"*What* are you doing?"

"Tryin’ to start the stupid fire." He lifted his hand and ran it once through his hair, frustrated, "Shit. I can’t…Do you have any matches or a lighter or something?"

"No…" He turned to look at me all pissed off because I wasn’t a smoker, and then blinked, like he was remembering something. He got to his feet. "C’mere."

"What – why?"

"You can do it – start it up."

"What are you talking about?"

"*C’mon*, it’s cold. Just pretend they’re a stack a’ books." He said impatiently nodding at the sticks.

"You saw that…"

"Yeah I saw it now start up the fire before I freeze to death…*Some* of us don’t have sleeping bags to keep warm you know."

"I can’t just…make that happen…I don’t know how I did it before."

He sighed and plopped down on the ground annoyed. "Then what good are you?"

"Y’know what? Bite me spaceboy. You’re the one that dragged me out here in the first place. I don’t owe you any favors." He was quiet, then after a moment said.

"This is really uncomfortable."

"*Now* who’s a princess?"

"My vote still goes with the chick who stole my sleeping bag. You can’t even see the stars from here" he said suddenly. He sounded disappointed. "When you camp in the desert you can see the stars", he explained. "They’re everywhere."

"I’ve never been to the desert, not for real anyway."

"Yes you have, you just don’t remember." I swear to God he is incapable of not arguing with everything I say.

We were quiet for awhile until a memory hit me – not one of the bad ones, but one I couldn’t believe I had ever forgotten because it had been so important to me at the time. I didn’t realize I had wanted to tell him about it until I heard myself saying quietly, "I went to a summer camp when I was eleven. I hated every minute of it except…there was this one night where our counselor took us on a kitchen raid, and the mess hall was at the end of this huge field of grass, and walking back it…it was just amazing…All there was was the ground and the stars…I’d never seen so many stars…It was like there was hardly any sky at all…" My eyes started to burn when I remembered how I fell to my knees, and just cried and cried and cried at the beauty of it. My heart had felt so full. I had felt so free. "I felt so alive…like I was a part of something bigger…like I could reach out and touch them all if I tried hard enough…" I remembered aching inside because I couldn’t reach them, and I had kept feeling that way even when my mom had finally come to take me home. The first night back I had stayed up all night staring out of my window, wondering why I still felt so far away from everything when I was where I was supposed to be, when I was home with my mom.

"It’s like that in the desert", he said softly. "You’ll see."

"Do you…do that a lot?"

"What?"

"Sleep under the stars…"

"I used to."

"What made you stop?"

"I finally had a place to come home to at night."

"You didn’t before…?"

I felt him squirm uncomfortably in the darkness next to me.

"No."

We were silent for a while, listening to each other breathe, listening to the gentle whisper of the leaves sliding against each other in the wind. I unzipped the bag enough for me to get my arm out and pointed up to the sky between us where I thought I saw a few flickers of light.

"There’s some." I whispered.

"Where?"

"Right *there*…"

"I don’t see anything…"

"You calling me a liar?"

"Where are you looking?" Exasperated, I grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and pulled him closer to me.

I pointed again.

"There." I said softly.

"Okay, yeah I see them."

I brought down my hand and pulled the sleeping bag material up over it again. "My arm is so cold" I commented.

"Imagine how I feel." I felt him shiver beside me and felt guilty. It *was* his sleeping bag after all.

"Fine", I sighed. Big baby.

"Fine what?" I unzipped the bag and held it open.

"Just get in. I know you’ve been dying for me to offer."

"Don’t-"

"Flatter myself, I know. Just get in here before I change my mind." I scooted over as far as I could and turned my back on him as he crawled inside and slowly pulled up the zipper. There was barely enough room for two people to fit once he zipped it up all the way, and our backs were snugly pressed against each other.

"You better not be a kicker…"

"Same goes for you pally"

*~*~*

I dreamt of the stars and the sand, the rock jutting out into the sky pointing at the Aries constellation.

I dreamt of a dark haired boy. I dreamt of his kisses, his hands. And it was unsettling. Not in the way the other visions had been – those didn’t make me feel so sad and…trapped. I felt like I belonged in them, like they were natural – this one felt forced even though I was responding to him, even though I was kissing him back, touching him back.

I couldn’t control myself.

It was scary.

It wasn’t me. I felt like I was playing a part I didn’t necessarily choose.

The vision wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. I didn’t know Max. How could I see him like that?

The vision was not real.

I woke up, my face pressed against the inside material of the sleeping bag, slick with condensation from my breath.

I don’t know why I kept calling it a vision. It wasn’t. It was just a dream.

It was just a dream.

My stomach grumbled and I closed my eyes, determined to fall asleep and *stay* asleep without being woken up by anymore…sex stuff – dreams *or* visions.

Michael shifted slightly behind me.

Yeah. Good luck with that one Maria. I closed my eyes even tighter and told myself that the thing with Max was a fluke. That it didn’t mean anything. That it was probably a result of having nothing but a handi-snack, half a can of Dr. Pepper, and a couple of cinnamon tic tacs for dinner. It didn’t mean anything.

I finally fell asleep again, murmuring that to myself over and over again until the words lost their meaning.

*~*~*

I dreamt of the stars and the sand, the rock jutting out into the sky pointing at the Aries constellation.

And when I saw the dark haired boy again, felt his kisses on my neck, his hands pressed against my back, I closed my eyes and begged my body to wake up again and stop feeling for him.

But I couldn’t wake up this time.

I still felt his lips, his body against mine…but suddenly they felt different. I opened my eyes and Max was gone. Michael was there, staring down at me with his dark, dark eyes, the stars shining over his shoulder. He reached out, his fingers touching the side of my face in a gentle caress. I kissed his hand, I lifted my face to his. I kissed him and could feel his fear. Could feel him choose to ignore it as I wrapped my arms around him and all there was was us...

*~*~*

I woke up feeling warm and safe. I woke up with Michael’s arm around my waist, and his lips against the back of my neck, in my hair. A lock of his had fallen across my cheek. He must have turned around in the night.

I couldn’t breathe. The sparks were running up and down my body in comforting little waves that made my heart pound. How was he not feeling this?

I closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep as I felt him move behind me and his breath on my cheek as he lifted his head. He carefully took his hand from my hip and slowly turned around, trying not to wake me.

The zipper unzipped and the sleeping bag rustled as he got out and paused before closing it up again.

I laid there for a few minutes more, wanting to get up but afraid to. I was embarrassed and I knew he probably would be too.

My face was warm and my heart was still racing. I couldn’t face him all strung out like this.

He had strong arms. They felt good around me. I liked the way his lips felt against my shoulder, and the way my body had curled into his like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like we actually could stand each other, like we liked each other. Like we were lovers.

*Oh please*.

I was not about to get all moony over this guy just because he accidentally put his arms around me and held me all night…and…

And he doesn’t even like me. He’s a jerk.

No – he’s not a jerk - he’s a buttmunch. This was established last night.

Okay now I was irritated. Good. I was now in a much better position to handle him and his attitude. I resolutely pulled down the zipper and crawled out of the bag. He looked up briefly, then went back to messing with the bike.

"You didn’t have to pretend you were sleeping." He mumbled. "You could have just woken me up. I would have let you out."

"I *was* sleeping."

"No you weren’t." He turned around and ran a hand through his already tousled hair and kicked at the rumpled sleeping bag. "Look, you were having a bad dream okay and that’s why I…" he trailed off with a shrug and picked up the bag.

"What dream…?" Oh my God. The dream. I had almost forgotten…

He didn’t know what it was about…please don’t let him know what it was about.

He started to shove the bag into its sleeve, not looking at me, focusing all of his attention on attaching it back onto the bike once it was all the way in and the drawstrings were tightly pulled shut. I could feel my face getting hotter and hotter. He knew. He knew I had dreamt about Max. I bet you could die from embarrassment. I bet it’s happened before. I be-

"You were being kinda noisy"

Oh my God.

"How…how was I noisy…?"

He shrugged.

"I dunno you just…you sounded upset…so I tried to wake you up but you just kept on whimpering and *kicking* me…you seemed to calm down when I…held you. So that’s why I…" He trailed off with another shrug.

"Thanks…" I whispered.

"Do you…remember what it was about?’

"Huh? No…no I don’t remember…"

Yes I did. Max. Me and Max.

My knees felt shaky. I wanted to sit down. I suddenly remembered that I had dreamt about Michael too last night. Was it because he had touched me? I watched him get on the bike. He turned to look at me expectantly. I met his eyes and I felt like I was going to crumple into a heap of embarrassment all over again. It’s…strange…seeing someone you just dreamt about – especially if you’ve dreamt about them in *that* way…like they can take one look at you and know *everything*…

I stared at my hands. I couldn’t look at those eyes anymore, not without thinking about…

"Are you getting on or not?"

I bit my lip and carefully climbed onto the back of the bike. He paused for a second then sighed impatiently.

"You’re gonna have to hold on if you don’t want to fall off." I hesitantly put my arms around his waist.

I didn’t feel the sparks or get any flashes, so I relaxed a little bit against him. He started up the bike and drove slowly through the path we had made last night. When we reached the road, he sped up until we were going so fast the trees were just two blurred stripes on either side of us. I buried my face into his back as the wind tore past, trying not to think about how warm his skin was against mine when there were no barriers like the leather jacket, his T-shirt, my T-shirt, my jacket between us.

I bit my lip.

This was bad. This was very bad.

*~*~*

We stopped after a while for gas and breakfast. I sat at a booth in a little diner next to the gas station near the window watching him fill up. He squinted into the sun as the wind that hadn’t let up since we’d started our little road trip pushed his hair briefly across his forehead before the strands up righted themselves again. I smiled. It figured his hair would be just as stubborn as he was.

What was I doing here?

Roswell was less than two hours away. He would know soon, and it would all be over.

I refused to feel bad about lying to him because *technically* I wasn’t *exactly* lying (see this is me trying to ease my guilt)…I just…wasn’t admitting to the whole "I’m-not-really-the-missing-alien-I-just-think-you’re-really-hot-and-don’t-never-want-to-see-you-again-cuz-you-make-me-feel-sparks-whenever-you-accidently-touch-me" thingy.

I looked out the window again and took a sip of my hot chocolate. I was being such a hormonally challenged teenager right now. I was actually checking out his butt. It was nice. Oh my God – when did I turn into a guy? See what going 24 hours on nothing but tic tacs and Dr. Pepper, and very little sleep do to you? It turns you into a horndog, that’s what it does…

Mmmm *corn*dog…that would be sooo goood right now…

I flagged down one of the waitresses and pretended not to be disappointed when she told me lunch wouldn’t be served for another hour, and ordered a plate of french toast instead – two plates, two knives and two forks.

I was sitting there trying to decide whether or not I should just tell him or wait and let him figure it out when he slid into the seat across from me and nodded at my cup.

"Almost done?’

"No. I ordered food."

"Are you kidding?"

"What, do you have issues with food that doesn’t come out of a vending machine? I’m starving – you should be too."

"Fine. Just be quick."

The waitress came and I pushed one of the toasts onto the second plate and slid it over to him.

"What’s this?"

"Food."

"I spent the last bit of my cash on gas." I rolled my eyes.

"I’m paying. God, just *eat* and stop giving me such a hard time. It’s too early."

"It’s 11:00"

"On a Saturday – that’s too early."

I took a bite out of mine then remembered I still had some cinnamon hearts in my bag. I took them out and sprinkled them on top of the toast, watching them sink under the syrup. Yum.

"What is it with you and those things?"

I shrugged. "Cinnamon hearts – sweet and spicy."

He smiled at me. *Smiled* – wow, didn’t think he was capable…

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bottle of Tabasco sauce and started sprinkling it onto his plate. He looked up and caught my eye, then smirked at my horrified expression. "Sweet and spicy" he said. He reached over and poured some onto my toast. I stared at it as it mixed itself in with the brown maple syrup. It looked disgusting.

Smelled good though…

I took a bite.

Fabulous – I’m like drooling here.

I picked up the little bag of cinnamon hearts and tossed a handful onto his plate.

I am seriously completely surprised at my lack of shock that I'm sitting here having breakfast with an alien. I mean, I've always been pretty open minded - with a mother like mine you have to be, but this was just too bizarre. What struck me as even more bizarre was that I had actually believed that I was one too (but again, with a mother like mine...).

He took a bite and I heard the soft crunch of one of the hearts being bit into. I grinned at him. "Good huh?" The corner of his mouth slowly slid up in a half smile.

"Maybe"

"You’re so annoying."

"I try."

"Tell me about Isabel and uh, Max…I mean what are they like? How did you guys find each other?" he was quiet for a moment, chewing, thinking, and said finally.

"They’re perfect."

"Perfect."

"Yeah. Izzy’s beautiful. People think she’s cold, an ice princess – they’re intimidated by what she looks like, but she’s not like that at all. She’ll mother you to death if you let her. She’s strong. She’s…" he shrugged and took another bite. "I dunno she’s Isabel. She takes care of us, keeps me grounded."

"Are you two close…?"

He frowned and stabbed his fork into a piece of toast. "Yeah…she’s like my sister…" He sounded unsure of that, and my heart tightened, which was stupid. I wasn’t jealous. I had no right to be.

"What about Max?" I tried not to blush as I remembered my stupid dream again.

"He’s smart. He always does the right thing. He’s like incapable of making mistakes…he’s…He’s good. You’ll like him."

"What about you?"

"What about me what?"

"What are you like?" He blinked at me, then turned his head to squint out the window, like he was just making sure the bike was still there.

"I’m the fuck up."

I laughed. "No you’re not."

"Oh yeah? Wait - you’ll see. We’ll get back to Roswell, something shitty’ll happen and it will invariably be my fault." I shook my head at him amazed. He didn’t sound bitter or angry. He sounded tired, like he had accepted his role long ago and there was nothing he could do to change it.

"You’re not a fuck up."

"Yeah how do you know?"

"I’m a very good judge of character. I mean aside from your sense of fashion, your lack of organizational skills-" I scratched at a mosquito bite on my forearm pointedly "- and your seemingly unnatural urge to bug the hell out of me, no pun intended, you’re not so bad. Read Chicken Soup for the Soul or something and throw out your copy of "Rebel Without a Cause" and you’ll feel better." He shook his head at me. I think he was trying not to smile.

"You’re nuts."

"Thank you." I paused then said quietly. "You’re not a fuck up. I wouldn’t have left with you if you were."

He smirked.

"You just don’t know me yet."

"I know you."

We sat there for what seemed like hours, gazing at each other over our Tobasco soaked, cinnamon heart coated, breakfast, feeling the sparks even though we weren’t touching (unless you count his shoe that brushed up against mine for a moment under the table), even though it was probably only a minute before a voice I knew ruined it all.

"Maria Deluca what are you doing here?"

I tore my eyes away from Michael’s and recognized Steven Wilkie – one of my mom’s many exes and the Sheriff of Marathon. *Shit. * What was he doing here?

Marathon was hours away.

"Sheriff! What are you doing here?!"

"I believe that was my question."

"Uh…nothin’ – y’know just hanging out with my friend. Havin’ breakfast" he glanced down at my plate.

"Interesting. Pretty far from home Maria."

"Yeah no kidding" I forced a laugh as he looked over at Michael. He just sat there staring at me. "Your mom know you’re here?"

"Yeah, yeah of course she knows." Okay I said that way to quickly. God I’m usually a much better liar than this. If only he would stop staring at me…

"I think I better take you home…" I felt Michael tense across from me and lightly kicked him under the table when I felt him start to get up. The last thing we needed was to make Wilkie angry.

"Yeah, okay. Let me just say goodbye to my friend and I’ll meet you outside." He gave Michael another once over before tipping his hat at me in agreement and leaving the diner.

Michael stood and grabbed my arm dragging me out of the booth, towards the back of the diner where the bathroom hallway was. "We’ll try and leave through the kitchen-"

"No."

""No"? What the hell do you mean "No"?" I took a deep breath. I had no choice but to tell him now. It was the perfect opportunity, right? I don’t know, maybe it was fate that the Sheriff showed up. Maybe fate just decided to give my "destiny" with the aliens the finger. I don’t know. I felt like I was going to cry.

"Listen," I said quietly taking a deep breath. "I’m just gonna go home with him -" he tried to interrupt but I cut him off. "I’m not her. I’m not who you’re looking for. I can’t be. I was *born* Michael, I was a baby. I didn’t come out of a…a pod. I’ve never been to the desert. Ever. I…I’m not who you want…" I finished in a near whisper, and finally raised my eyes to look at him. He looked…shocked. And then he looked like he didn’t believe me.

"No" he said grabbing my arm. "That’s impossible. You have to be one of us. Nasedo and Max both-"

"They were wrong."

"No." he gripped my arm a little tighter, pulling me in closer. "No, I wouldn’t have felt – you wouldn’t have seen the visions…"

"Maybe you forced them on me did you ever think of tha-"

"You wouldn’t have powers-"

"Look Michael", I said breaking away from him "I don’t know – maybe I’m telekinetic or psychic or something – I don’t know what I am, but I am *not* an…an alien." I stepped back trying not to cry in front of him. "I’m not like you. I have a mother. A mother that carried me inside of her for nine months. I was a baby, I was a toddler I didn’t come from the stars. You made a mistake."

He reached for me again, and I knew if he caught me he wouldn’t let go – he would drag me kicking and screaming to the bike if he had to. And I would let him.

I moved out of his way and said as nastily as I could, "You said it yourself didn’t you? You’re a fuck up and something shitty has happened – you made a big mistake. It just wasn’t in Roswell." I turned and walked away and didn’t look back. I hated myself. I had let him believe…I had let this drag on for too long. It was my fault it had ended like this. I hated what I had said to him...I just…I just had to make sure he wouldn’t come after me again.

I had to make him hate me.

I was about to push open the door when I felt a hand on my shoulder. Michael swung me around until I was facing him. His eyes were cold.

"If you tell *anyone* about this I will find you..."

"I won’t tell…" I whispered. "I’m sorry…" I turned and ran outside to the police car where Sheriff Wilkie was already in the driver seat on the verge of leaning on the horn. I pushed the tears off my cheeks before he saw them and climbed in. I didn’t look back.

*~*~*

When I got home, I was somehow able to convince Steven not to walk me to the door. I knew he wanted to – he still likes my mom (despite the fact that the only reason she went out with him at all was to get out of paying some speeding tickets), but I didn’t want him to tell her where I’d been and that would have definitely come up. One of the reasons she broke up with him in the first place (aside from the fact the citations had been erased from her driving record) was because he seemed to feel the need (probably because he was the Sheriff) to point out what he thought were her mistakes in raising me. You do *not* do that with a single parent – especially my mother. He would have told her it wasn’t a good idea for me to be so far from home with a boy (which was a "duh" anyway), and then she’d ask where I was and with what boy and I would be doubly busted – one for showing Sheriff Steve that he was partly right in thinking my mother neglected me, and two for going off with a stranger in the first place. So I got him to let me go alone after feeding him some story about how Michael’s sister was a friend of mine from summer camp and she was in the hospital and wanted to see me. Her brother was just driving me back home when he showed up, and rather than inconveniencing Michael by making him go out of his way I gratefully accepted his generous ride home.

He seemed to believe it.

Like I even care anymore.

I stumbled up the steps to my house and waved at the Sheriff once before unlocking the door and stepping inside. She wasn’t even home yet. All the lights were off. Good. I didn’t want to see her, I didn’t want to see anybody. I just wanted to lock myself in my room and cry.

I felt completely drained, mentally and physically drained. I collapsed onto my bed and stared up at my ceiling, at the little glow stars stuck up there. It made me think of last night, lying beside him in the darkness, and then waking up with his arms around me.

I was never going to see him again.

I was never going to meet Max and Isabel or even that Nasedo guy.

I was never going to be with Michael in the desert.

He hated me.

I hated myself because I was just a normal ordinary girl that had been either lucky or unlucky enough to have had forty-eight hours of something extraordinary.

*~*~*

My mom came home around eight thirty, and guess what?

She had run into *Steve* at her acupuncturist. Steve thinks acupuncture is ridiculous and used to bug my mom about having it done, so what the hell was he doing there? Trying to earn some brownie points with her by ratting on me? Bastard. If I was an alien three guesses to whose brain I’d melt first. I was just lying there in the dark on my bed trying to sleep but scared to because I thought if I had to face another one of those dreams with either Max or Michael I’d go completely irrevocably mental, when my mom burst in like the drama queen she is (now you know where I get it from) and said "I saw *Steve* today – he said he found you *six * hours away in a *diner* eating *strange food* with a *juvenile delinquent*. Maria-" big dramatic pause here "*are you on drugs?*"

I wanted to laugh. I wanted to scream. I wanted to remind her that she, up until I was ten, had grown her own pot under our back porch because she claimed it was "therapeutic". Wonder what Sheriff Steve would have thought of that.

"Mom I’m not on drugs. He’s not a juvenile delinquent, and it was more like five hours away." She started talking at me like she always does when she’s upset or confused or not getting the response she wants from me, about everything I (or any one else on this planet) have ever done that embarrassed her or made her angry or disappointed, so as usual I went into my Charlie Brown mode where everything she says turns into "wha whu wha" with an occasional "Maria" making it through the Angry Mom Filter.

She always takes my irresponsible actions so personally, and I always try to get her to chalk it up to the fact that I’m a teenager but she never goes for that because apparently, I have an "old soul" and should know better. I don’t even bother to defend myself or make excuses any more.

She paused to breathe and I yelled at the ceiling.

"Yes! I smoked up! I had sex on the back of a motorcycle with a juvenile delinquent and then we found a diner and did it on the counter between the register and the lemon meringue pie!"

That shut her up for about half a minute.

"That’s not funny Maria", she said and turned slamming my door shut behind her.

I wasn’t worried at her departure. I was grateful. At least she’d leave me alone for a couple days – y’know to make sure I knew she was *really* angry with me. By Thursday we’d be watching "Friends", giggling and pretending we’d never had a fight at all.

Usually I’d be lying here making myself sick with guilt that I had made her think she was a bad mother, that she had raised a child dumb enough to repeat her mistakes, but I wasn’t. I was trying to figure out how to create a metal box big enough to encase everything I’d seen and felt the last two days starting from the moment our eyes met through the window to the moment I’d turned my back on him at the diner. I could get its sides up, could get them to trap everything inside – I just couldn’t get the lid shut.

I rolled over onto my side staring out of my open window. It was getting dark. The stars were just beginning to show themselves.